My Anxious Love
by Idamonae
Summary: [Shawshank Redemption]Andy’s anxiety over intimacy with Red was short lived after all.Slash


Title: My Anxious Love

Genre: Romance/Angst (Slash)

Rating: R

Summary: Andy's anxiety over intimacy with Red was short lived after all.

_Disclaimer: I don't own a god damned thing. Any lines in italics are stolen directly from the screenplay, as written by Frank Darabont. Everything else belongs to Stephen King I suppose, with a bit of leeway thrown in for all the folks at Castle Rock and Columbia that contributed to the film adaptation. Unlike Red, I ain't making no 20 percent, and this is for entertainment purposes only. _

_xxxx_

Red groaned as the pressure in his shoulders and back escalated, but refused to stop the rhythmic undulating of his hips, no matter how much it might hurt later. Andy sighed softly beneath him, arching his back in a fashion that might have made Red jealous of his flexibility, if the younger man didn't look so god damned beautiful doing it. This was pure bliss, of that Red could be sure...even with the side order of back pain.

It had taken them awhile to get things right, at first. Andy, made shy and anxious after half a lifetime without a gentle touch, and himself, of whom no amount of years spent in a homosocial environment had taught him much of anything about the _proper_ mechanics of physical love between men, and well, they'd had to experiment a bit before they discovered a method that was mutually satisfying. In Shawshank, everyone took what they wanted with force, and Red, not feeling any inclination towards such a violent and dribble existence, had made due with his hand for forty years.

One mistake in life had been enough. He was a killer. He didn't want to be categorized as a rapist too.

The first time he'd made love to Andy, he'd felt forty years younger, as if his time spent in stir had fluttered away on invisible wings. It had been slow going, and relaxed. It had taken months to get to the point where Andy wouldn't tremble whenever Red came into his personal sphere. Not matter how much trust was between them, one simply couldn't erase the memories that haunted the younger man. No matter how much time he spent bathing in the pacific.

This was why their first sexual experience together had been so important. Their relationship had not been built out of sexual desire. Red had known Andy for more than twenty years, and hadn't so much as looked at the man with a hint of lust until he'd arrived in Zihuatanejo. It wasn't until Red had come to the realization that Andy needed him that way that he'd given the matter any thought. At that point, it had happened as a natural extension of their friendship. Their love for each other had shifted to encompass sexual desire, and Red had learned that he needed Andy as much as the younger man apparently needed him. The mutual need to rediscover an element of their humanity that had been stuffed down the shitter had brought them closer together, and Red couldn't be more grateful.

Contrasting the Andy of then, to the one who now writhed beneath him, begging so prettily, was shocking. What was more shocking was that he was able to think at all while sheathed within the tight bliss of Andy's body, because really, when he thought on it, there wasn't anything more lovely than the blue of Andy's eyes, or the pale flush across his cheeks, or the soft breathy sounds he made when Red touched him _there._ Nothing, except maybe the melodic ring of his laughter when Señora Covas teased him in the kitchens, and maybe the lovely shade of red he took on when her jokes got to be too crude, even for the ears of ex-cons. I guess it was safe to say Red loved Andy. Taking him in his arms had been one of the easiest things he'd ever done, and it wasn't something he'd ever regret doing. He looked down at his lover now, chuckling when he saw the small traces of a frown marring Andy's pale brow: clearly, he was concentrating too hard. Red shifted his position, striving to hit that place inside his lover's body that would make it impossible for him to think anymore. He grinned lazily when Andy gave a small cry, clearly indicating his success. They were close now, the both of them. The lanky academic gave a small shudder, wrapping a lean calf more tightly around Red as his fingers scrambled for purchase on the damp bed sheets. He clenched his eyes tightly shut as he reached his orgasm, a breathless gasp the only sound that issued from the pale column of his throat. The subsequent tightening of his body did his older lover in, and Red almost collapsed upon Andy's chest in exhaustion as he emptied himself into his lover and sank into the realm of ecstatic oblivion. Yes, making love to Andy was pure bliss, but _damn _was it exhausting

_xxxx_

Andy had to admit he'd initially been repulsed with himself, and the whole idea of wanting Red _that way_. His anxiety over his feelings, and the fear that he may be found out had led him to distance himself from his friend in an effort to stave off the inevitable abhorrence Red was certain to feel, and the subsequent rejection. He was fairly certain that if Red ever _did_ find out that Andy loved him in a romantic fashion, that he'd be forced to watch his friend pack his bags and face the possibility of never seeing him again.

If prison hadn't broken him, watching Red's back disappear over the horizon surely would have. Andy was certain of it. He'd come to rely on his lover. Their partnership was the cornerstone of existence, as far as he was concerned. He also knew now, that Red felt the same way. Knowledge was the key to peace, it seemed. Their coming together had ironed out the kinks in Andy's head, and he knew there would never be enough he could do to repay his lover for helping him put all the pieces back together. The older man was asleep now, snoring softy, cuddled up into his pillow with one arm outstretched to Andy, as if to make sure the younger man stayed put. Not that he would go anywhere. There wasn't anywhere else _to_ go. When he'd been planning his escape, Zihuatanejo hadn't really been a tangible place, so much as the intangible opposite of his reality: everything he'd wanted that he couldn't have at the time.

He'd only really come here because there was an international border between this place and the old one.

Because he sure as hell didn't ever want to return to that place, and at least here, they wouldn't catch him. Here it was safe, with Red.

He'd been afraid at first, of being fucked. Red didn't fuck so much as he soothed and gave pleasure. Andy had known that it was possible for buggery to feel pleasurable. Mostly he'd just wanted to regain control, and to put the choice back into his own hands. Boggs Diamond had had his ass enough, so he figured it must be good. Giving himself to Red had been both the hardest and easiest thing he'd ever done. And it had been wonderful. The feel of his lover inside him, the knowledge of their joining had been cleansing to his battered soul. He'd wanted to feel it again and again…and Red had obliged. Granted, neither one of them was a young man anymore, but they'd certainly felt like young bucks then, and the feeling resonated to this day.

He could here the surf crawling up the beach outside, and knew that he ought to be sleeping. If Red awoke and found him contemplating-

"Go to sleep, Andy."

Too late.

_xxxx_


End file.
